space they cannot touch
by but seriously
Summary: It's a wonder you can even answer, because he's kissing you in a way Derrington's never managed to, and he's running his hands so skillfully down your body, and you wish that you could stay this way forever. Oneshot, AU. Cassie, slight Clam Massington


**I wish it was summer. But NO. It's rainy and cold here.**

**This oneshot? Sucks, just like the Clique trailer. But reviews are oh so welcome.**

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**Space They Cannot Touch**

**M**

He's looking at you, waiting for a reaction as he slips his arm around her. She laughs and whips her head around, and they're _so close_ you want to just rip off his lips and dig your nails into her arms.

He smirks, knowing his triggered something inside you and your eyes flash. How dare he, how dare she, how dare _you_? Fire erupts deep within, and you smother it with a long sip of Perrier. No, you don't care. Instead, you smoothly push back your chair and walk slowly through the crowded cafeteria. Everyone's eyes are on you, even his mismatched ones, as you drop yourself down on Derrington's lap and press your lips to his neck.

"Is this your way of saying you're sorry?" Derrington asks, raising his eyebrows. There's lust in his eyes, just like there's been ever since you met five years ago, and you know there always will be.

"Maybe." You shrug carelessly, letting your hair spill down your bare shoulders. Envious eyes flit away, and some flash with hunger. A hunger for gossip, scandal, _more_.

"Or maybe…" A finger tracing his jaw slowly was the only thing needed to make Derrick lean into you. "Maybe I just wanted to kiss you."

"In that case, we should break up more often," he murmurs against your lips, and just as his eyes close, you glance at Cam, and his face is full of anger, frustration… envy?

You certainly hope so as you wink at him and turn your attention back to Derrington. As far as you're concerned, you've won this round.

**C**

You watch as Derrington practically swallows her jaw in the art of what Derrington must have assumed was _kissing_. Massie was using that pathetic shitbag as revenge? Please, even she could fare better.

But strangely enough, Claire's arms hanging onto yours feel like chains, and you just can't look away from the disgusting scene unfolding before you.

"Cam," Claire purrs and you look at her. Her hair is carefully tossed the way Massie's has been, and she's wearing lip gloss you once tasted on Massie. Your favorite, Cinnabon. You frown as you realize it's Derrick's favorite, too.

"Yeah, baby?"

Claire obviously delights in this and leans her head onto your shoulder, smiling. "How long have we been together?"

You glance at your watch. "Um, two hours, tops?"

She scowls. "No, silly. I didn't mean since we last broke up."

"Oh." You resist the urge to roll your eyes as you mumble, "Five years." You don't add _painful_, _shitty_, _regretfu_l, or _boring_ in that sentence. Which is too bad, since that would be great for entertainment. And for watching the clouds in Claire's eyes fall down her face.

Too bad everyone's labeled you too much of a nice guy to actually _hurt_ anything.

**M**

You're young, you're beautiful, you're unstoppable.

But you don't _feel_ beautiful, or young, or unstoppable as he jiggles the doorknob yet again, and after cursing again under his breath, he slumps down to the floor and sighs.

"We're not going anywhere." He runs his hands through his hair, and you look away, because you don't want to think how delicious he looks right now.

Too late.

**C**

For a smart guy, you sure can be unbelievably dumb. How could you possibly get stuck in an impossibly small and cramped shitbox with Westchester's very own _Massie Block_ and _not_ attack her lips?

No, instead you're just sitting there, doing flipping _Math_ homework. Well, she's doing Math homework; you're just banging your head to the song pounding out of your earphones. You don't even try to register the song playing, because the way she murmurs as she tries to figure out an equation, the way she bites her lip in thought, the way she sighs and moves on to the next question when she can't solve it is way too intoxicating.

It takes a minute for you to realize that she's talking to you. Unbelievably Dumb Moment #2: Of _course_ she's talking to you. Can you see anybody else wedged between to small space (one foot, three inches, you counted) between the both of you?

"I'm sorry, what?" You pull off earphones and stow your iPod back in your bag. She sighs and gathers her books in her arms.

"Nevermind."

But you notice how her cheeks are pink, how her eyes dart, and how she's twirling with her hair way too much. And the devious smile grows on your face as you shrug in a _suit yourself_ sort of way.

Seconds tick by, and you're just waiting for her to—

"Damnit Fisher, _kiss me_."

Seconds later, her books are on the floor.

**M**

You're out of breath, and you're strangely unaware of your own thoughts as he presses you against the cold wall. His ragged breath rings in your ears, and you're pretty sure you can hear your own heartbeat.

"Do you think of him when you're with me?" he whispers, and your flesh burns as he runs his icy hands down your waist.

"All the time," you manage to lie, and he bites down on your lower lip. Hard.

"What about now?"

"Yes."

"And you're _still_ thinking of him now?" His butterfly kisses make your own heart flutter, and you cringe as you hear yourself gasp _Yes_. It's a wonder you can even answer, because he's kissing you in a way Derrington's never managed to, and he's running his hands so skillfully down your body, and you wish that you could stay this way forever.

"_Liar_," he snarls, and his hands stop moving and his lips move away from yours. You can almost cry. But as soon as it stops, it begins again.

"Tell me this means nothing." But you can't say anything, because his kiss makes you lose your breath so much, and all you can think about is the cruelty of irony. For a nice guy, Cam Fisher sure can hurt.

**C**

It's been two weeks.

Two weeks of hearing Claire giggle.

Two weeks of not talking to Derrington.

Two weeks of searching hopelessly for her in hallways.

Two weeks of not seeing, touching, kissing her.

So when you smell her perfume and hear her laugh, your senses go into overdrive. She's standing there, laughing at some stupid joke Derrington just made, and his hands are intertwined in hers, and you just want to punch a wall.

No, instead, you go up to Claire and kiss her with as much force as you can muster.

**M**

Cam Fisher cannot love, you decide as you put on as much concealer and eye shadow onto your eyes to hide the dark shadows and the puffy redness without looking like a corner slut. Because Cam Fisher is just a lonely, cold bastard.

You're losing sleep, you can't concentrate, and you feel like screaming every time anyone even mentions the Golden Couple of Westchester Academy. The wet stings at the corner of your eyes no longer surprise you, as tears are perpetual these days.

You consider getting home schooled. What was the point of going to school each day if you just wanted to catch a glimpse of him, anyway? Now that Claire, now your ex-best friend is permanently attached to his lips, it's all you can do not to stuff your tube of lip gloss down her ungrateful, conceited throat. The way she tossed her hair, the way she laughed, the way she let her hair fall down her shoulders just sickens you. But it's your fault, anyway. You taught the bitch everything you knew.

**C**

But maybe, just maybe, there's more to life then waiting, you think. After all, waiting isn't going to get you anywhere.

Clarie's arms around your neck is cold and as she tightens them and presses closer to you, your loss hits you like a Range Rover.

**M**

Maybe, just maybe, you're better off without him.

You rest your head on Derrington's shoulder and listen to your heartbeat, his heartbeat, the beat of the song.

And then you catch _his_ eyes.

_And you can't look away._

**C**

So now you're both back where you started. Confused, lost, stuck.

After a long stretch of silence, you avert your eyes from the stars above you to the brunette in your arms. "Tomorrow's going to suck."

"Maybe they'll be so lost in the dance, they won't realize we're gone?" she asks hopefully, but you both know that's so utterly ridiculous and pathetic, even Claire and Derington knew better.

"How about we forget everything. Let's just take tonight... and enjoy it."

"Tonight," she whispers, and as she stand on her tiptoes to kiss you, everything's alright. Tomorrow, you'll see where you both stand.

But _tonight_, tonight... she belongs to you.

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**There. Boom. It's over.**

**Review?**


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